Traitor to Your Conscience
by Tesekian
Summary: Third in the Hide and Seek series. I hate my name. The only people who call me Dr Jackson are those I hate, the people I would gladly shoot in cold blood. And the only people who call me Daniel are those who hate me. Those I've betrayed.
1. Default Chapter

I hate my name. It symbolises all the things I hate about myself now. The only people who call me Dr Jackson are those I hate, the people I would gladly shoot in cold blood. And the only people who call me Daniel are those who hate me, and have every right to do so. Those I've betrayed. What's a name if you've no friends to call you by it? It's a no win situation I'm caught up in. I have no friends; no one who cares about me. And I can't blame anyone but myself. There was a time where I had good friends who used my first name and people who respected me using my second. No one respects me now, especially not myself.  
  
***  
  
I was drowning my sorrows in a can of cheap beer. It was a habit I caught from Jack probably, in a previous lifetime. The lifetime where I could spend an evening getting drunk with my friends. The lifetime where I still had friends. I hated the taste of beer but it was the cheapest alcohol I could buy. They had Sam, or at least they would soon. They'd done some research on the list of names I'd been able to get for them, and now they were certain they knew where Sam was. She'd be in their custody within a day. So I was drunk.  
  
They hadn't told me which of a fairly long list was the correct name, and I didn't want to ask. They didn't trust me enough not to betray them. It was funny the way things were, the only people who thought I might betray them were those I didn't dare betray. Not with what they had.  
  
The phone rang and I pulled myself up slowly to answer it. Only one person ever rang me and I didn't care about keeping him waiting. "What is it?" I snapped into the mouthpiece, "Decided to gloat?"  
  
"She's gone," that all too familiar voice droned in my ear. I wish I'd never heard that voice. "Someone warned her." The dismal cloud that had settled around me lifted and I felt able to smile. If Sam had escaped. . . Then it came to me what Sam's escape could mean. Simmons would undoubtedly blame me, and that meant I might never get what he had promised me. The cold hand of fear gripped my heart and for a moment it felt as though it had stopped breathing. I was terrified, but not for myself.  
  
"I don't know which of those names was Sam," I said, my voice quivering with fear. "I wouldn't have been able to warn her."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"I don't know." I was sobbing, my eyes filling with tears as I thought of what Simmons could do. For an instant I considered telling him about Makepeace, but Makepeace was the only person who knew enough and was in a position to do anything to stop Simmons, and, unlike with me, Simmons had no hold over him.  
  
"If I find out you've been lying then there will be strict consequences." Simmons didn't need to state what those consequences would be, I knew well enough. "Find Major Carter." He didn't wait for my answer before hanging up, and I lifted the beer can up again to empty it completely. But the shock had eliminated the drunken haze and beer could offer me no comfort. I'm not ashamed to say that I buried my head in my hands and cried. I'm ashamed about what I did next. 


	2. Sam's Arrival

A few years wallowing in drunken misery had seriously improved my ability to hold down my drink. I didn't even have that much of a hangover the next day. I discovered I'd finished off the last of the beer the previous night so I couldn't even distract myself from the hideous task of trying to find Sam. I had a computer set up in the kitchen, state of the art with all kinds of modern conveniences. Simmons had made it so that I couldn't blame any failure to find out names on my computer. I sat down, and started to go through the records. It would help if they'd told me whom it was Sam had been posing as. At least I could use that as an excuse.  
  
I'm not sure what time it was that the doorbell rang, probably shortly after lunchtime, but I hadn't eaten anything all day. I couldn't think who it could be, as far as I knew, Simmons was in America. I was more than happy to have him as far away from me as possible. I got up and went to the door. I don't know who I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the person standing there.  
  
"Sam!" I looked around, trying to see if there was anyone I recognised out in the street, anyone that worked for Simmons. I didn't see anyone, and quickly pulled her inside, feeling the steady gaze of the camera on my back. We studied each other for a while, noting the changes. She'd died her hair to a light brown colour and let it grow long. It suited her. She was wearing a red dress that looked wonderful on her, even if it was rather dirty and present. It was a tense moment, probably for her as well as me. I was scared of myself and what I was planning to do to her, not sure if I had the strength to do what I needed to. Having her standing there in front of me made it even harder for me to do what I had to. But I couldn't put it off forever.  
  
"How are you?" I asked, amazed how my voice sounded. It sounded shock and surprised, which I was, but it didn't sound nervous or guilty. Guilty of a crime I was yet to commit.  
  
"I've been better," she said, which was clear. Then she smiled at me relaxing slightly, friendship and trust mocking me from her gaze. "It's good to see you," she said, with no idea she would be better off a never seeing me again. I felt tears of shame welling up behind my eyes and I wasn't sure if I could keep my face happy. So I pulled her into a hug, so I could stare at the door behind her while I blinked back the tears. She hugged me back, never suspecting what I was planning. I guess I'd become a good actor over the years, and here I was acting like a loyal friend.  
  
"How did you find me?" I asked when I'd composed myself again. I needed to know, Simmons had done a brilliant job of hiding me. And it might clear my name completely so that I could gain my promised reward.  
  
"Makepeace found me and gave me your address." I know I panicked then. She wasn't to know there was a camera in the hall, relaying every word to Simmons. She had just told Simmons he had a spy in his ranks. I wasn't sure how I should reply to that when she carried on. "Where's Susanne?"  
  
It took me a moment to think up an excuse for her not being there. It wasn't like I could tell her the truth. "She's just popped down to the shops. Do you want something to drink while we wait for her? Coffee?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Make yourself at home." I indicated the lounge. Simmons hadn't gone in for comfort when he picked my accommodation. My computer was probably worth about ten times the value of the house and all its contents. Sam went to the lounge, and I moved into the kitchen, where I allowed myself a silent breakdown. I turned on the coffee machine and just let out the tears I'd been holding back in there. I wasn't sure I could go through with it, I wasn't even sure it would do any good. Simmons would soon know that I'd been hiding the fact Makepeace had been working as a double agent, I might have already thrown it all away. I might as well just cut my losses and get out with Sam while I still had a chance. But that would destroy any little hope I still had left. There wasn't just Sam to think of, or I would have just gone then. But if there was even the slightest chance I could regain the position I had just lost by Makepeace and Sam's trust in me, then I had to take it. Even if that meant. . .  
  
The coffee machine finished and I poured out two mugs. I went to a cupboard and got out a jar of sedatives. I dropped a couple into a mug and stirred it in when I added the milk. I grabbed a kleenex and wiped my eyes, checking my reflection in the oven door. If Sam suspected. . .  
  
I went back to Sam, considering the possibility of giving her the wrong mug. She would know something was up and escape; I would be able to pretend to Simmons that it was a mistake. But I knew Simmons wouldn't buy it. I handed her a mug and sat down next to her.  
  
"We've got so much to catch up on." My tone was light and friendly, surprising myself. How could I sound so calm when my insides were a raging tempest of conflicting emotions? Every compassionate feeling in me wanted to scream at Sam to get out while she still had a chance. "Do you know where the others are?" I hated myself for saying that, and I still do. I was trying to buy my reward with more suffering. It was bad enough I was doing this to Sam, but Jack, Teal'c, and Janet as well? It's just one of the reasons I hate myself. How could anyone have ever thought I was a decent person?  
  
Sam shook her head, "I haven't heard from any of them since we left, none of us knew where the others were going. You?" I shook my head, relieved that my words wouldn't harm any more than necessary, and watched as she swallowed a mouthful of coffee. She looked puzzled and I began to think there was hope. If she realised that it was drugged then she might be able to get far enough away before it had any affects. That hope was crushed as she drank some more. She was doomed, as was my soul. I kept talking, trying to act calm.  
  
"Susanne and I have been looking at records and things like that, trying to get any information, but we've had no luck." I could see the sedatives begin to take an affect, but she kept on drinking. Her eyelids kept drifting down, and she had to force herself to stay awake. I knew she wasn't paying any attention to me, but kept talking anyway. "We were hoping one of you would find out where we were, I guess we got lucky there." I smiled. I tried to think of something to say next but didn't need to, Sam suddenly dropped the mug and I knew she'd worked it out. She got to her feet, leaning her arm on the back of the sofa for support. My immediate reaction was to reach out and try to help, but she pulled away from me. She hated me; I saw it in her eyes. She managed a few staggering steps towards the door, before she fell. I was there at her side, catching her, lowering her gently, making sure she didn't hurt herself. I couldn't do anything else for her, but at least I could stop her being in any more pain than necessary.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," I told her in a futile gesture before she passed out. There wasn't any point in saying it, because there was nothing I could do that would make this up to her. I had betrayed her, and everything I knew to be right at the same time. I hugged the unconscious body of my former friend to my chest and cried. 


	3. Tears

I'm not sure how long I crouched on the carpet, clinging to Sam and crying. My brain had shut down completely and I'd given myself over to the grief I'd had to hide when I was with Sam. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and no matter what excuses I made it would never be right. I couldn't help wonder if it would be worth it: would what I hoped to gain ever cancel out the evil crime I had committed. Was there any worse crime than betraying a friend who believed she could trust you? I couldn't think of one then and still can't now. Sam had more reason to trust Makepeace, a man who had already betrayed the SGC, than me, a good friend. Friend. That word meant nothing now. I had killed friendship when I committed the action that as good as killed my friend.  
  
The door opened without a knock, and I knew Simmons had seen the camera tapes and sent his men for Sam and me. At least with a camera I didn't have to say out loud what I had done, I doubted I would ever be able to say that. No words could express the enormity of this. I knelt there crying, as men came and took Sam from my arms. I didn't want to look up at them. If I just stared at the floor then I wouldn't have to see the evidence of my betrayal any more. It would be gone and I could forget over a can or two hundred of beer. I wanted to die. Images of Sam thrown up from my memory flashed through my mind, pictures of her helping me, being my friend. I hadn't exactly repaid her fairly.  
  
"Colonel Simmons wants you to come as well, Dr Jackson." I'm not sure how many times that man had to say that in order to get me to hear, my senses won't registering. I finally looked up and saw him. They were all just nameless, faceless military men to me, who obeyed their orders with no thought to the people who suffered as a result. Either that or they thought about the suffering, but just didn't care. But this man looked at me with emotion behind his eyes. Pity perhaps, or compassion. He put his hand on my arm to help me firmly to my feet, and then he led me out. I saw Sam, strapped to a stretcher and being put into a black car. The man with his hand on my arm looked from Sam to me, the emotion definitely compassion now, with a fair amount of puzzlement.  
  
"Why did you do it?" he asked me, seeing and understanding the way I felt about it. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't excuse my actions. What I had done was so terrible my heart felt as though someone had tried to tear it out of my body, and I wasn't even sure the result would be worth it. 


	4. Journeys

He did this on purpose. He stuck me next to Sam in the plane, flying out to wherever his base is; I've never been able to find that out. We were on the back row, with everyone else up at the front. Sam was unconscious for almost an hour since we got on the plane, her head lolling against her chest. She was handcuffed to the seat. He put me there so I couldn't help but see what I'd done, another way for him to torture me. I don't know what it is I did that made him hate me so much, but it must have been bad.  
  
Sam finally came round and took in her surroundings silently, before turning to me. I knew what her first question would be and had been considering what my answer would be all journey, and I still didn't know.  
  
"Why?" she asked, and I turned my head away. She spoke with accusation, such hatred, and I couldn't bear to look at her and see what she thought of me. Tears filled my eyes and I let them fall. "Why, Daniel?" Sam asked again.  
  
I turned to look at her, knowing I had to say something, I couldn't just leave her with nothing. "Because I had no choice!" My voice was shaky and uneven, torn apart by sobs as the tears flowed freely. I propped my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands. There are men who refuse to show their emotions, but mine were too violent to be buried.  
  
"There's always a choice," Sam's voice was still full of hate, but slightly softer now. "What did he do? Did he threaten to kill you?"  
  
"You think I would do this if it was something like that?" I spat at her, angry that she could think so badly of me. In hindsight I shouldn't really be angry, she had every right to think badly of me after what I'd done.  
  
"Did you hand Susanne over as well? Is that why she wasn't there?" The mention of Susanne brought fresh grief over me, and brought forth fresh floods of tears. Tears I thought had dried up long ago.  
  
"I never, EVER wanted to hurt Susanne," I told her, hoping she would believe me. "I would NEVER have given her to Simmons." I stared straight into her eyes, hoping she would believe me a good enough person not to do that. I would never purposefully have betrayed either Susanne or I couldn't even think that name.  
  
I calmed down and spoke again, "I don't want to you to ever forgive me, Sam. Not when I can't forgive myself."  
  
"Just hope for your sake we never meet again." I look away again at that threat, thinking of my beautiful, darling Susanne. I hadn't meant to let Simmons take her, but he had. It was my actions that had led to Susanne being taken, intentional or not. And now he'd taken Sam by my own intentional actions. I was a monster. 


	5. Simmons

We arrived at some NID landing strip near some base somewhere. Simmons didn't give away anything to people he didn't trust, and he certainly didn't trust me, even after all I'd done. Never trust a traitor, not even one you've created. It was hot, and the sun was completely surrounded by blue. But the heat couldn't disperse the chill feeling inside of me when I thought of everything I had done for the man I hate most in the world.  
  
Speak of the devil. Simmons approached me as I stood next to the stairs down from the plane. "Come inside!" he ordered firmly. I obeyed.  
  
We reached his office and he waved me to sit down. "Well?" I asked, knowing I should probably show more respect, but how can you act respectful to someone you don't respect?  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"Where's what you promised me?" Neither of us spoke by name about my reward for doing well or his threats if I failed to help him, but we both knew what they were.  
  
"You did well today," Simmons said, gloating. It made me want to leap across the table and strangle him. I gripped my hands firmly together to stop myself.  
  
"I betrayed one of my closest friends! I hardly think that counts as doing WELL!" There was venom in my tone and I knew Simmons heard it, I just had to hope that he would pay attention.  
  
"What you have done may have provided a great weapon in the battle against the Goa'uld."  
  
"Simmons, you know I don't believe that, and no matter how you go on about it, this whole business can never be morally right! Now give me what you promised me so I can wash my hands of you forever!" All he needed to do was push me a little further and I would have strangled him, gladly.  
  
"There is one other thing we need to talk about first." I wished time could stop there, because I knew I didn't want to hear what he said next. Whenever he used that tone it meant something terrible for me, and I didn't know if I could do this again. "I'm a little concerned that Major Carter said she followed Makepeace's instructions to get to your house." He knew Makepeace was a spy, or at least he suspected. He was waiting for any excuse to fail to give me what I wanted, so he could keep me working for him for longer. If I told him the truth then he might give me my reward and I would be free, but at what cost? Less than a day after I had betrayed one friend, I was contemplating betraying another. 


	6. Rebellion

I couldn't tell Simmons about Makepeace, he was the only person free to do what he wanted who was inside the operation. Maybe if Simmons didn't know I knew, then he would give me my reward anyway. I needed to come up with a plan, and I needed to do it quickly.  
  
"I didn't believe even you would be capable of such cruelty!" I spat at him, trying to sound as angry and upset as posible, "It's bad enough that you made me give you names that might have been my friends, but to send them to me and make me physically betray them? That's nothing short of torture! You can try to hide behind your 'overall good' moralistic bull but then you go and do this and prove you just enjoy watching people suffer. No lies you spin could possibly explain this as something good. Why didn't you just tell Makepeace to get Sam? You thought it would be worth the risk of losing her just to make me do it personally? You're a monster! You're worse than the Goa'uld!" At least that last part was true. I think my angry tirade threw him, he expected me just to roll over and give him the answers he wanted. It's shocking to have something like this suddenly happen, making you realise that you've just been an obedient slave for so long that people expect nothing else. It was time for that to change. It's good to know I could still come up with tricks he didn't expect. It took him a while to respond, and I was already beginning to plan out what my story would be. I needed to plan this very carefully or I would lose everything I'd worked so hard to gain.  
  
"How did Makepeace know your address?"  
  
"Because you told him, I'd expect. How long's he been working for you?" I expect Simmons was planning to ask me that same question, and my asking of it threw him again, just has he was recovering. Keep the enemy reeling, as Jack always used to tell me when he was complaining about my complete lack of military knowledge. It would have been easier if I'd had more time to come up with the perfect replies, but that had to seem like something that just came out. The quicker I said them, the more truthful they would appear.  
  
Simmons recovered again. "There is no use pretending, Dr Jackson, I know that Makepeace has been working with you." Damn! My pretences hadn't fooled him. Maybe if I kept them up longer he may begin to doubt his convictions.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't know what you want me to say."  
  
"I'm sure you do, Dr Jackson, now I want you to tell me everything, or there'll be consequences." Again he didn't specify what they would be, but I knew. He thought that would be enough to turn me, and maybe I could use that against him. It was about time that I used my weak-willed obedience for my own advantage.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about. Please." I begged him, pleaded with him for a short while, all the time pretending I had no idea about Makepeace. All the acting skills I had used in tricking Sam I now put to good use on Simmons, trying to make him believe I really didn't know.  
  
"You can't fool me."  
  
"I'm not. Please. I don't know. I can't tell you what I don't know." Again I carried on with that train for a while, acting like I was scared of what he was threatening, which I was. If he thought I was that scared, then he would believe I was telling the truth. I think he may have begun to doubt, but then he called for Makepeace. Maybe he wanted to be sure that I was lying.  
  
I think Makepeace's face when he saw me spoke volumes, and said enough to condemn both of us. "What's going on?" he asked once he'd got his features under control again.  
  
I never thought I would be able to hate Simmons any more, but I underestimated him. "Dr Jackson has been kind enough to fill us in on your work here." That son of a bitch! I wanted to leave across the desk and strangle him. I wanted to make sure the throat that had said that never spoke again. I saw the reaction on Makepeace's face as the shock sank in. There was disbelief, shortly followed by anger, and it was the anger that resided there.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" He screamed at me the very thing I had silently been calling Simmons. "I thought you were a decent man, DANIEL!" He used my first name. Always before he had called me Dr Jackson, as a sign of respect. This was a sign, just as clear, that he had no respect for me any more. He said it with my name more than the words he chose. "What about that conversation we had?" Any thought of hope was gone now. "You were the one trying to make me see how immoral this work is, and now you're siding with them?" I closed my eyes to shut out his face, I couldn't bare to look at it. Yet again, my unwilling actions had betrayed someone I cared about. Maybe Makepeace saw the guilt, but he went quiet.  
  
Simmons turned, smiling slightly, to the security men who had accompanied Makepeace. "Kindly escort Colonel Makepeace to the holding facility." I watched them take him out, asking forgiveness with my eyes. He stared right back with eyes full of hate. Another friend was gone.  
  
"You realise you will be punished for this," Simmons said, and my true grief came back. "It will take a lot to convince you I can just give you what I want now." That threat told me everything I needed to know. He had never planned to give me my reward, so maybe it was time I stopped being a wimp and just took it. I had nothing left to lose now, with Makepeace gone as well. But I needed some answers first, and Simmons would never respond to a direct question.  
  
"You've probably already done all the things you threaten to do. They could be dead already for all I know." That was probably the closest either of us had come to mentioning his threats out loud, after that first time he had made them.  
  
"I'm sure we can reassure you on that count tomorrow, and perhaps see to your punishment at the same time." For once luck was on my side. They were on this base, and I would get them out. My unwitting actions could cause pain, Simmons's unwitting action would end it.  
  
Simmons sent for another security member to take me down to my quarters. It was just for formality of course, he didn't expect me to do anything, which is why I could. I silently thanked Jack for insisting on my self-defence training as I hauled the unconscious guard into a storeroom and took his gun. I'd been here once before so I knew where the holding facility was. As I ran, I thought of the last time I'd been here. That was when they'd taken Susanne, and Simmons had told me about Jonathon. I'd known from the start that Susanne was my daughter, a part of me even. I knew that NID had taken my genetic code, and altered it to grow this child. Susanne had no mother, she was made from my cells and mine alone. I'd known this when Hammond had her brought to the SGC. I'd never told anyone, and I don't think anyone knew, except maybe Janet. There was no way Janet could NOT know with all the tests she ran on her. But neither of us told anyone, even Susanne didn't know. She grew up not knowing she had any relatives, because I wasn't sure what telling her would do.  
  
But I didn't know about Jonathon. A child created in the same way as Susanne, her brother, and my son. My two, thirteen-year-old children, in the hands of my worst enemy. With them, Simmons had forced me to do things I would never forgive myself for, like betraying Sam, because he knew I wouldn't let them be hurt. They'd been prisoners here, Susanne for four years, Jonathon his entire life, and now it was time I put that right.  
  
I reached the holding facility and peered through the grating on the windows to see which cell it was I wanted. I soon discovered I didn't need to do that as I saw the only cell with guards outside. It had to be the one. I quickly took out the guards, hoping that the sound of the gun wouldn't attract too much attention. I quickly moved the bodies, grabbed the keys and opened the door.  
  
Makepeace stared at me with shock as I went in. The anger was still there, and I was worried he'd attack me, but he held it in check. "What do you want?"  
  
"Your help." There was no point in beating about the bush.  
  
"Why should I help you?"  
  
"I never betrayed you. There was a camera in my house and when Sam mentioned your name Simmons realised what had been happening."  
  
"But how did he get the camera in your house?" There was no way I could tell him about that, he wouldn't understand in time to get us out, or at all. But maybe if I didn't answer then he would trust me less. I couldn't know for sure and too much rested on this for me to make the wrong decision. My children were too important for that to happen. I needed to make Makepeace see this from a different angle, or I'd lost everything I hadn't lost already.  
  
"Look, there will be a whole load of guards heading this way. And, unless you feel like spending the rest of your life as a scientific experiment, I suggest you trust me." I held out the gun, the handle towards him, as a gesture of trust. If he was armed and I wasn't, then he may be more willing to listen. "Trust me," I begged, thinking of how many lives hung in the balance of this one decision. "Trust me." 


	7. Trust

There was a long pause as Makepeace thought over what I had just said, looking at the gun I held out towards him. "Why?" he asked finally.  
  
"Because Sam will die if you don't. And so will we." I don't know how long we stood there, but it seemed like lifetime. I expected the guards to come rushing in at any moment. All the time there was precious and we were wasting it because Makepeace didn't think he could trust me. Finally, he reached out and took the gun from my outstretched hand.  
  
"What now?" he asked, obviously believing I had more idea about the situation than he did. I suppose it was true, but that didn't make it any easier for me to take command. I'm no soldier and yet Makepeace wanted me to tell him the plan for getting out of the base. I decided to give him the situation and let him take charge.  
  
"Sam isn't in any of these cells, which probably means she's up in one of the labs. There are also two children on this base: Susanne and a boy. We have to get them out."  
  
"Where will they be?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe the labs, maybe they've got their own rooms." He looked at me like I was useless, which was pretty much the way I felt. I could tell he was curious about the children, but his military training prevented him from asking questions to satisfy his curiosity until we were safe. I was glad about that, I wasn't ready to tell him yet. He let the way out of the cell and along the hall, I guess he knew his way around the base a lot better than I did. It was understandable, I'd only been there once before after all. I bent down to grab a gun from one of the dead guards, trying not to think about the fact that I'd killed them. They might have had families, children, and I'd killed them in desperation. I pushed that out of my mind and followed Makepeace to the elevator.  
  
"We'll go to the labs and get Major Carter first," he said, "then we'll see about these kids." I nodded, relieved to no longer have to be in command. I'd have preferred it if Jack could have been there, but that would have meant Simmons had him.  
  
The alert sounded while we were in the elevator. Fear was a cold hand clenching my stomach tight. I tried to breathe steadily and not let my breaths come out in frightened gasps. "Hey, Doc J, we'll make it." That simple reassurance was the first sign that he did trust me. Somehow that was comforting, at least there was one person on this base who would trust me. Sam wouldn't, Susanne wouldn't, and Jonathon didn't even know me. I had one ally in a base full of enemies. And even Makepeace probably didn't trust me completely.  
  
There were armed guards waiting for us as soon as the elevator doors opened. We were expecting that, and took shelter behind the opening doors, firing steadily. They had no cover and we were able to take them out quite quickly. "We won't have much time," Makepeace said. That was the understatement of the century. I let him lead me to the labs, as I silently prayed they would be there.  
  
We struck gold in the first lab. Sam was strapped to a table, looking fairly queasy. They probably drugged her up again. Still, at least she was alive. It only took us a few moments to have her unstrapped and I gave her my arm to steady herself on as she sat up. The next minute I was being sent flying across the room. To be honest, if that's what it was like to be hit with her when she was drugged up, I don't want to be hit by her when she's at full strength.  
  
"I enjoyed that," she said with cruel happiness in her voice.  
  
"Glad to be of service," I muttered, massaging my sore jaw. At least if she was that angry she might take some of that anger out on the guards. I kind of hoped Simmons would show up, we both would be happy to punch him in the face.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" she then asked.  
  
"Susanne is on this base, along with another kid," I told her, "and we're trying to get out of here with them."  
  
"How do I know this isn't a trick. You could both be working for Simmons."  
  
"Sam, you know me. Please, you have to trust me." She glared at me, and I began to doubt she would ever trust me even the slightest bit. Makepeace got sick of us just looking at each other and settled the issue.  
  
"Just give her your gun. She can shoot it better than you anyway." I handed it over and she turned to Makepeace, casting me aside as if I was useless. It hurt me so badly that she would trust someone who had been proved a traitor once before more than she trusted me. They exchanged words, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy despairing over a broken friendship which could never be repaired. It might not even have ended up worth it. We could have died there and Sam would have died hating me, believing me to be a traitor. I had betrayed everything that was important to me: my morals, my beliefs and finally my friends, and now I was paying the price. It served me right if Sam didn't trust me, after what I'd done to her I deserved nothing less. Just like I'd deserved that punch she threw at me.  
  
"Come on!" Sam ordered me sharply. Evidently she and Makepeace had finished their discussion. We went out into the hall again, and began checking the other labs, but they were just filled with equipment and experiments. One held a whole stack of cages filled with scrabbling mice. At least mice were better than humans for experimenting on.  
  
"Where else would they be?" Sam asked.  
  
"I don't know. All I know is that they're on this base." I was slightly worried that I'd misinterpreted what Simmons had said and that they weren't. All this could have been for nothing, and Simmons wouldn't hesitate to continue his experiments on them if he knew that they were no use for bargaining with me.  
  
"Well we can't just search the base, we haven't got time!" Sam was getting angry now, and, justifiably, she was taking her anger out on me. I thought for a moment that she would punch me again.  
  
"Wait a minute," Makepeace said, much to my relief, "if they spend time on this base then they'll probably have rooms near the personnel quarters."  
  
"Where's that?"  
  
"Level fifteen." We headed back to the elevator, with Sam ignoring me again. Well, as long as she was ignoring me she wasn't hitting me. My jaw was bruised and rather painful. We met quite a few groups of guards on the way, both before we reached the elevator and on level fifteen. I got myself another gun after we took out the first lot. Sam glared for a moment but I think she accepted that it would be better to have another gun on our side, even if she wasn't totally convinced I was on the same side as her.  
  
Personnel quarters posed another problem for us: there was an entire floor full of rooms and probably quite a lot of guards. "We should split up," Sam said, contemplating the long search. Makepeace just looked at me. Sam saw and knew what he was thinking. "You take Daniel with you, I'll go on alone." I didn't protest. We went back to the last lot of guards we'd taken out and grabbed their radios. It wasn't like they needed them anymore. There was a slight problem that other people would be able to listen in, but Sam fixed that by fiddling with the radios so that they would broadcast and receive on a different frequency.  
  
Again I followed Makepeace through enemy halls, praying that my children were here somewhere. Room after room proved empty, or yielded sleeping figures. It turned out that Simmons's security procedures eventually gave them away, when we reached two rooms with armed guards outside. That had to be where they were. I'm not where Simmons was getting his guards from, but I've seen five-year-olds who were better trained, and not just Susanne. We took them out with no difficulty and then each went to a different room.  
  
I opened the door and saw, sitting at a computer, a boy who looked so much like I'd done when I was little that it was scary. He was thirteen, with a long fringe of dark blond hair flopping into his blue eyes. I remembered myself at thirteen and knew that the only difference between our appearances was that he didn't wear glasses. He looked shocked for a minute, then he began to back away from me, frightened. He must have heard the sounds of the fight outside. I didn't like the thought that my son would be so scared of me.  
  
"It's OK, Jonathon, I won't hurt you."  
  
"How do you know my name?"  
  
"Jonathon, you have to come with me." He bumped into the wall and couldn't back away any more. He was puzzled, perhaps wondering about our similar appearances.  
  
"Daniel!" I heard that shout behind me, and turned to see Susanne hurtling towards me. She flung her arms around me and seemed like a little girl again as I hugged her tightly. She didn't hate me. Jonathon came out of his room then, looking between Susanne and me as we separated.  
  
"They're going to help us, Jonathon," Susanne told him. He became a little more trusting of me then, and slipped his hand into Susanne's. Standing there together in the hall it was impossible to doubt they were brother and sister.  
  
Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps behind me, and Susanne's face filled with fear. I spun round to see the guard fire his gun. I didn't have time to think, I just leapt, crying out with pain as the bullet tore through my flesh, the bullet that would have killed my children. There was the sound of another gun shot almost before I hit the ground, as Sam came round the corner and killed the guard. Then Makepeace was at my side, putting pressure on the wound. I looked once more at my children, hugging each other with fear, and I whispered my dying request.  
  
"Tell my children their father loves them."  
  
THE END  
  
I promise I'll post the sequel soon. 


End file.
